


A Jumper for Molly

by Laurel_Sky



Series: Family by Choice (Not Blood) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Background Percy/Oliver, M/M, Mentions of self harm and panic attacks, Percy’s still not over Crouch being imperiused, This is my first fanfic so bear with me, its only a line or two, slight depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 16:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21000542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurel_Sky/pseuds/Laurel_Sky
Summary: There was nothing special about the day Molly Weasley got her first Weasley jumper.





	A Jumper for Molly

**Author's Note:**

> If I accidentally copied anyone's writing style, I honestly apologise. I don't really know what I'm doing, just had an idea and here I am:)  
I don’t own Harry Potter or any of these characters. If I did, you wouldn’t be reading them.

There was nothing special about the day Molly Weasley got her first Weasley jumper.

  
It was about seven in the morning, the twins were screaming obscenities behind her, and Remus had a hand on her shoulder while the others were getting ready.

  
It is a story that spans almost a decade, starting from the time Harry Potter was nine and had no clue that a wizarding fortune was hidden under his feet, when Ron Weasley was also nine and had no idea that Fred and George were outside his room holding a can of spiders, when Ginny Weasley was eight and had no clue who Tom Riddle was, and when Percy Weasley was thirteen and had absolutely no idea why he was sitting in Professor McGonagall’s office, eating a salted biscuit.

  
“Now, Mr. Weasley,” started McGonagall, and he sat up straighter, worried. Did he get a T on the Transfiguration test? It wasn’t possible, though he was sure he’d gotten a question wrong –

  
“I’ve gotten word from all your other professors, and they told me you’ve received perfect scores in all your exams, including Potions.”

  
Percy almost sighed with relief; he hadn’t disappointed after his parents after all, but the twins would snicker and tease him again and Ron and Ginny would laugh and _Merlin, couldn’t he just stay here for the summer no one would miss him anyway -_

  
“- Mr. Weasley?” McGonagall was saying.

  
“Pardon, Professor?”

  
“A hobby, Mr. Weasley, something you do when you aren’t studying.”

  
He thought and thought, but unsurprisingly, he couldn’t think of a time when he was not studying.

  
“Well, Professor, I have to get all O’s in my OWL’s and NEWT’s so that -”

  
McGonagall sighed, interrupting him. “_One day your family will be the death of you_.” She muttered, pushing the biscuit tin towards him. “Do have another biscuit, Mr. Weasley, and I’d like to see you with something other than your books when I see you in September. The Ministry will not mind if you took a break once in a while.” She stood up and ushered him out of the door. “And for goodness’ sake get some sleep,” she added, shutting the door behind him.

  
Percy thought about what McGonagall said though the full train journey back home, sitting next to Oliver Wood, who was pestering Charlie for Quidditch tips. He thought about it when his mother gave him a big hug and Ron and Ginny ran up to the twins to ask about the weird parcels they sent home. He thought and thought to try to ignore how his siblings barely glanced at him.

  
Finally, sitting next to the fire, reading the fourth – year Charms textbook he borrowed from Charlie, opposite Mum, who was just starting Bill’s green Weasley jumper, he arrived at the answer.

  
It was mesmerising, the way she knit away with the skill acquired only by ages of practice.

  
He watched out of the corner of his eyes, trying to grasp how it was done, and when Molly put away her needles and went to make dinner, he sneaked up the basket, checked if anyone was looking and when he spotted no one, he cast a Geminio (_A skill learned by a third - year boy when Fred needed an extra beaters’ bat after it turned into a flower bouquet_) on the needles and made off with three balls of dark orange yarn (_He only used two of them, the third forgotten and packed away until it was found and used again_).

  
He went up to his room, and shielded from sight by the bed and back against the wall, he started to knit. Let it not be said that Percy Weasley had a poor memory, as for after a few tries, he got it right, and went on to knit a small simple square until he was called for dinner.

  
He would forever never forget the joy he found when he finished that small square, a joy he failed to get even when he got O’s in all his OWL’S (_except the E in Herbology, which his siblings use to point out that ‘Perfect Prefect Percy’ wasn’t perfect after all_).

  
He kept thinking of what his first project would be (_something for Mum, perhaps_) at the dinner table, which drew some suspicious attention, mostly from Ron.

  
“Mu’ , Pwercy’s dwaydweemin’ ag’n,” he managed around a mouthful of potatoes.

  
“Close your mouth while chewing, Ron, we don’t need to see half – digested potatoes in there,” replied Percy, pouring himself some more. Ron scowled at him, and the twins smirked.

  
“Aww, has Ickle Percy -”

  
“Prefect Percy -”

  
“- finally got a girlfriend?”

  
“Now boys, that’s enough!” said Molly as everyone at the table snorted. “Fred, George, stop teasing your brother. Charlie, if you’re done eating, you can go to your room. Same goes for you, Ginny. Ron, close your mouth or else you’ll choke. Would you like more potatoes, Arthur?”

  
“No, thank you, Molly.”

  
And that was that.

  
And if McGonagall found a Gryffindor cosy next to her usual coffee mug after the sorting the next year, to her credit, she didn’t say anything about it, except smile at the now ‘Eldest Weasley at Hogwarts’ when she saw him in the corridor.

  
That Christmas found an extra present for Molly under the small Christmas tree, neatly wrapped and almost screaming to be opened, but when the time came, it was opened by Arthur instead (_Amazing scarf Molly love the colour_) and Percy was devastated (_It was for Mum you’ve ruined it can you not read the name on top do you know how hard I worked on it of course you don’t you don’t even care_) and Molly was surprised (_Where did this one come from I didn’t make this maybe I did oh well_).

  
All was forgotten the next minute, as she turned on Celestina Warbeck and everyone simultaneously groaned. Arthur sat on the armchair as usual, making eggnog, and the twins were talking to Ginny about Lee Jordan’s acromantula, and Ron was enthusiastically telling Charlie about Churdley Cannons, and she was so caught up with the Christmas spirit that when a small ‘_I’ll be in my room_’ came from her left, she let it pass without question.

  
Percy picked the needles off the bed and threw it against the wall, tears flowing freely now, pulled the covers over himself, gripping his potions knife tightly in his hand _I hate you I really hate you Just want to make you proud but don’t think you care Fine then (When I’m Minister you’ll wish you paid more attention to me)_ and thinks he’ll never knit anything for his family ever again.

  
The next year, Oliver Wood gets his first Weasley jumper, knit in Puddlemere Purple with an ‘O’ on top, and promptly puts it on (_Wow Perce it’s so soft I can’t believe you knit this I’m never taking it off_) and is bewildered when his stoic best friend throws his arms around his shoulders and starts sobbing, but holds him just as tightly nevertheless, and they stay like that till lunch. Oliver knows how everyone else take Percy for granted and scoff at him, and promises him that even if the world was against his Percy, _he’ll_ be standing at his side.

  
Two years after that, Neville Longbottom sat in the library, quizzing Percy and Oliver on Herbology a day before their OWL, wearing a hand - knitted yellow jumper and laughing at Oliver’s guesswork and Percy’s sarcastic quips, feeling warm and giddy at being included.

  
_(He’d always defend Percy for leaving, as he knew how it felt to reach out only to have it thrown back at your face and replaced instead by ‘Wonderful Harry Potter’; besides, the overrated Golden Trio and his grandmother considered him a burden anyway.)_

  
Years later, after Percy snapped and screamed at his father and turned his back on his family and moved to a new flat with Oliver, he was rummaging through his things, looking for the reports he wrote on cauldron bottoms back when he started his job (_Don’t think about Crouch we don’t want another panic attack do we_), he found a ball of dark orange yarn at the bottom. He stared at it for a long time, remembering the Christmas years ago, and regretted slamming the door on his mother, who never laughed when Fred and George or Ron or Ginny or _his father_ made fun of him, who was the only person in his whole family who seemed to give a damn about him.

  
For a fleeting second, he wondered if he should try making his mother a jumper. Plucking his Gryffindor courage, he picked up his needles, the same pair he threw against the wall years ago, and began knitting furiously, cauldron bottoms forgotten.

Molly stood in the kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, holding a package and biting her lip. She shouldn’t be doing this, if the twins or Ginny caught wind of what she was doing, she would never hear the end of their rants. He might have turned his back on her, but he was her son too.

  
Mind made up, she tied the package to Pigwidgeon’s leg, hoping Ron wouldn’t notice, what with Arthur in St. Mungo’s _(He’ll be alright he’ll make a full recovery stop worrying)_.

  
“It’s for Percy Weasley,” she whispered to the tiny owl, leading it to the window, and it hooted shrilly and zoomed out into the night sky. She stood staring at the window, wondering what she would do if her son still hated her and sent the jumper back. Finally, she tore her eyes off the window and went upstairs to check on Harry (_Poor kid must be shaken, possessed by You – Know – Who, indeed)._

Percy had just finished sewing off the ‘M’ on the jumper when something tumbled in through the window, giving him a fright. He got off the bed and went to have a closer look. It was a tiny owl – Ron’s owl – Pig, he guessed , and almost groaned. Ron never wrote to him unless he wanted something. The last time he wrote was when he wanted to know where Crouch - (_Don’t think about Crouch it’s alright it’s over_). It got on its feet and hooted happily, sticking it’s leg out, where a package was tied. His heart skipped a beat. He opened it with shaking hands and found a light grey Weasley jumper inside.

  
Percy ran his hands over the jumper, touched by the fact that his mother found the time to make this for him in spite of what he had done (‘_You don’t deserve it, traitor,’ whispered Fred and George in his mind._)

  
He bit his lip, wondering if he should send his jumper back. What if she hated the colour? What if the twins tore it to shreds? He wouldn’t really blame them if they did. The Howler they sent two weeks ago explained exactly what they thought of him, and he couldn’t even disagree.

  
A hoot from the owl brought him out of his thoughts. It was holding its leg out, as if to say _they hate you anyway, hated you for years, nothing will change._

  
Making up his mind, he wrapped up the jumper, keeping the owl busy with some treats, and tied it to its leg, whispering, “Take it back, give it only to Mum.”

  
  
Molly sat at the kitchen table with Remus, engaging in idle conversation. They were going to visit Arthur today, and the kids were upstairs getting ready.

  
“- that’s Moody’s opinion,” Remus was saying, only to be cut off by the arrival of an owl carrying a package too big for it, nearly crashing into the Blacks' ornate dining table.

  
“Pigwidgeon!” cried Molly, and her heart sank on seeing the package, _oh no oh no he sent it back he hates us (hates me)_, and opened it, crestfallen, tears brimming in her eyes, to see a dark orange, Weasley red jumper, with an ‘M’ stitched on the top.

  
Her face froze in shock, and the twins chose that moment to enter the room.

  
“Morning Mu – Mum? What happened? Is that - ”

  
“No, Mum, tell us you didn’t - ”

  
“Molly -”

  
“He’s not worth it, Mum! Never has been, that prat!”

  
“Yeah, Mum, right from the start he’s been nothing but a humongous pile of bat droppings -”

  
“I suppose when you spend half your life with a rat you start acting like one. Shite, sorry, Remus -”

  
“Molly, listen to me -”

  
Molly wasn’t listening, running her hands along the jumper in disbelief. Her Percy made this just for her... When did he learn to knit? Did he pick this colour - Weasley red? She had always wanted at least one of her children to learn her craft and continue the Prewett tradition. Suddenly, she found herself longing for all the lost evenings she could have spent with her middle son, teaching him how to knit a cable stitch and patterns. Oh, her Percy, he must be so alone on Christmas Day! _No more alone than he was back home_, a voice in her head whispered, and tears ran down her face. The twins and Remus were trying to console her, but she paid them no attention.

  
She picked up the jumper and pressed it close to her face. It smelled of ink and lavender, so much like her Percy that it made her break into sobs. Remus put his arms around her shoulders, and she pressed her face into his shoulder, hugging her first jumper to her chest.

  
There was nothing special about the day Molly Weasley got her first Weasley jumper.

  
It was about seven in the morning, the twins were screaming obscenities behind her, and Remus had a hand on her shoulder while the others were getting ready.

  
It is a story that spans almost a decade, ending at the time Arthur Weasley was forty - five and had no clue what stitches were but was excited to try, when Fred and George were seventeen and done and had no idea why their mother was bothering with ‘that git’, when Oliver Wood was nineteen and had no clue why his boyfriend was examining cauldron bottom reports and wearing a light grey jumper, and when Remus Lupin was thirty - six and had absolutely no idea what was happening as Molly sobbed away on his shoulder.

  
There was a war brewing on the edge outside, but what was coming would come, and they would meet it when it did. For now, they’d enjoy the presence of family, and friends they considered family, and hope that it would be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! If you did, feel free to give kudos, or a review.  
Percy really dosen’t get enough love;)


End file.
